“Oh, does she? I hadn’t thought of that. I’ll think about it,” he says, bringing a dish over and placing it on the table. It’s lasagna, and it smells delicious.
“Pasta’s my favorite,” I say as he puts down a bowl of salad and slides into his seat. He gives me a smile like he already knew that fact. A way to a man’s heart and all that, except he already has mine.
I help myself to some lasagna and take a bite.
“Oh my, that is delicious!” I exclaim. “How is it that you can cook so well when you barely eat?”
He shrugs. “I do eat when I need to, but I don’t really care to cook for one. But yes, I can cook. My mom taught me.”
“It's amazing,” I say, taking another forkful. “How are your parents?”
He tells me that they’re well, doing fine in their retirement house, and then just casually drops in, “They want to meet you.”
”You told them about me?” I put down my fork so I can take a gulp of my beer.
“Of course I did,” he says, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I love that he now seems to believe we’re serious enough to be able to tell his parents. But still, the thought fills me with some dread.
“They’ve invited you to family dinner on Sunday.”
“Oh!” I was probably about twelve the last time I saw them. I take another drink of my beer.
“But if you'd rather not . . .” Holden trails off when I don't answer.
“No, I mean yes. I’d love to, I just don’t know... Actually, I’m nervous I guess,” I admit with a sheepish grin.
“Of my parents?” he laughs. “They’ll love you.” I guess they don’t know the whole truth, then, and I’m glad of it as it’s not a subject I want to explain to his parents. While we finish up eating, we talk about a few of the people we met at the reunion, some of whom we both remember. I help to clear the table and offer to wash the dishes.
“No, you’re my guest. Go through to the living room and relax. I’ll bring you a coffee in a minute.”
I don’t relax, not in the way he meant it by sitting on the couch. Instead I wander around his room, getting a sense of Holden at home. I peruse his books and look at the couple of photographs he has up of him and his parents. I can see his creativity everywhere... cushions and throws, even some art on the wall. Though there are also paintings, mostly landscapes, which seems like a theme. Holden may have indoor hobbies but a lot ofwhat he creates has a sense of the outdoors. A question I ask him when he appears and joins me bearing two mugs of coffee.
“Do you like the wilderness?” I’m standing in front of a watercolor of some mountains.
“I love it.” He stands next to me and passes me a mug.
“To be in it?” I take a sip of my coffee.
“When I can, not that I get much of a chance.” Then he gives me a look. “You don’t think I’m the outdoorsy type, do you?”
“I never said that,” I protest
“You were thinking it, though. I could practically hear your thoughts.”
“Kind of,” I admit. “But I like that because I do too, though it’s been a long time since I’ve been hiking.”
“Then we should do it together sometime.” He smiles and looks happy, his eyes shining with the promise of a future adventure. He’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
I put down my coffee and take his mug off him too. I place my hands on each side of his head and press a soft kiss on his lips, then I look into his eyes the color of emeralds and whisper, “I’ve had my dinner, now I want dessert.”
He licks his lips and I need to taste them too, so I lean in and take his bottom lip between mine. The tiny gasp he gives acts like rocket fuel to my desire.
”I need you.” He takes my hand, all but dragging me upstairs to his bedroom. I’m torn between wanting to devour him quickly and wanting to take my time, but it’s Holden who decides that one by claiming my mouth as soon as I’m through the door. Hishands deftly find my buttons and he tugs my shirt off. I pull his tee up and disconnect our mouths just long enough for me to drag it over his head. The rest of our clothes land on the floor shortly after. All the while we manage to mostly keep our mouths together. I walk him to his bed and he lies down. I pause, mostly to suck some air back into my lungs.
“Where . . .” I start, and he points to his nightstand.
“Top drawer.” I reach over and grab some lube and condoms.
“I did some prep before you arrived.”
